The only word today comes in the form of a postcard from Dottie. On a card of Lake Sunapee, presumably brought home from her recent trip, she sends Dart her new address at the Miller home. She promises to write later that night, but I find no indication that she managed to do so.
That’s all.
Dart’s letter today is a fascinating one, in what he calls two volumes. It opens with a beautiful description of a perfect dawn over Treasure Island. The fog burned off early, the sky and the water are almost the exact same shade of crisp, deep blue. For once there is no wind and the brilliant sunshine is illuminating the buildings of San Francisco in sharp relief. “All we need is Tschiakovsky’s fifth or seventh symphony playing softly in the background, and you beside me with our hands intertwined, to make this scene a perfect solitude.”
He notes that today is the halfway point in his stay at Treasure Island. He says there’s almost no chance of anyone in his class going to advanced school in San Diego from here; no one has out of the last three classes. Nearly all have been assigned directly to their ships. He doubts there is a chance he’ll be seeing the east coast or Ohio any time soon. He’s learned that before Navy men are released from service, they must have some sea duty. Married men with families will be released first, when the war is finally over. But before that can happen, the Amry forces will be disbanded. As an unmarried sailor with no sea duty, he falls to the bottom of the list for discharge. But first, he must win the war.
With a sense of gravity, he writes that the Navy’s toughest work is still ahead of them. Until now, their main job has been to protect and support the ground forces throughout the world. But now, in addition to those duties, they must begin to fight; fight harder, farther and longer than ever before.
He believes the job is going to be a very tough one. “The Japs have not been resting while we’ve been building up our Naval strength. Their ships and planes are good ones and they are crafty imitators of the machinery and tactics used by their enemies, in addition to having a few cruel and ruthless tricks of their own.”
Dart gets a bit political in his next thought. He writes that despite repeated warnings from the State Department and military heads that the U.S. was unprepared, certain people are criticising the Administration for our unpreparedness. He says these are often the same people who “sold us down river” for fear of inciting the Japanese, or because they trusted her. Now Japan is exceedingly well-prepared with sophisticated equipment and knowledge. Says Dart, “We really do have a rough road ahead of us…but it’s not the fault of our leaders.”
Switching gears, Dart discusses one of his classes called battery allignment. He sticks to his promise of not boring Dot with details, but he explains that the course consisted of the guys receiving a thick technical manual to mull over while the instructor read the newspaper. Later, they were allowed to play with a couple of guns in the gun shed. No one could figure out if the material was so simple it could be learned by osmosis or so complicated that even the men who devised it didn’t know how to teach it. This morning’s test gave them their answer. Dart aced it.
Volume II of the letter begins with another political message. He was happy to read a reprint of an editorial from the Cleveland Plain Dealer in the SF Chronicle this morning. The op ed piece was in support of Dewey for President. Dart goes on to say that the PD has long held a reputation for having the best editorials and political writing in the country – no mudslinging or bitterness – just reasonable and factual arguments for candidates and issues. Dart hopes all parties on both sides will run clean campaigns. He believes Dewey will beat FDR, but in either case, a good man will be chosen.
He tells Dot of his plans to see LA if transportation details can be arranged. Several guys he knows have taken Naval flights down state to visit the city. With the planes ticking off the miles at a rate of between 150 and 400 mph, it’s a great way to spend some liberty time.
Dart seems to be in an expansive mood tonight with a lot on his mind. Next he tackles a lively description of the frequent fire drills on the island, made necessary by the flimsy, temporary wooden buildings that pepper the place. Because a fire here would be a catastrophe, they drill at all hours with plenty of apparatus.
He tells Dot a cute story about his classmate named Peterson, with the wife named Dorothy. She has moved to San Francisco to be near her husband until he is shipped out. For a while, the guys were calling the other Peterson “Young Pete” until they realized he’s two years older than Dart, and married, to boot. Now they call him “Little Pete” and Dart is simply “Pete.” The other one is too mild-mannered to complain about the nickname he’s not thrilled with. Dart simply says, “The fellas never think of just calling us ‘Dart’ and ‘Bill.'”
Now he poses a gripping question. Would Dot like it if he returned home with a moustache? Several of the guys are emulating Errol Flynn in their shaving habits. Others look more like Groucho Marx. Both Pop and Dot’s Dad wear moustaches, but Dart suspects he’d end up looking “like a fugitive from a cat fight.”
A recent letter from his friend John Angel brings news of a few of the old neighborhood boys. The lucky Angel may get a furlough over Thanksgiving and marry his fiance then.
With the sun glowing so brightly Dart says it’s hard to get into a woo pitching mood. He hopes he gets a letter from her later in the day. (And in the margins, confirms that he got a great one.) He hopes his letters to her get back on track. Perhaps his studying has affected his sense of humor. “Now you’re seeing the more serious, less affable side of Peterson! I hope it doesn’t frighten you away. I surely don’t want to lose you or have one of us get tired of the other now that we’ve fallen so deeply in love.”
Don’t worry, Dart. Keep writing letters like this one and you’re good for life!
In spite of receiving a great airmail letter plus a postcard from Dot yesterday, Dart only has time for a quick letter tonight. He confesses to spending most of the day loafing and he’s run out of time.
It could be that the reason for his unproductive day is another cold he seems to have caught. He plans to try to rid himself of it by getting more sleep tonight.
On Dot’s previous recommendation, he saw “Bathing Beauty” last night and agrees it was a pretty good picture. (Or as Dart playfully writes, “a perty fair pitcher.”) He must admit that with all those beautiful women with “undraped charms,” he still likes Dottie best.
After signing off with love, he adds a P. S. “I can’t let all this lovely space go to waste without telling you again how much I love you. But again I can’t find words to express it. Love goes on, words or no words.
Dot’s long letter actually covers two days. She’s so sorry that she made the comment about his letters seeming different. It wasn’t a complaint – just an observation. They seemed short and vague to her and now she thinks it’s because he really didn’t have the time to write. She’s happy to get anything he has the time or inclination to send her.
She confesses that she has had the same difficulty mastering the back stroke that Dart has. She also had to do the deep water, fully clothed jump to pass her life-saver test at camp. She jokes that her true handicap was her shoes. They are so big that when they filled with water, she sank to the bottom.
She picks the letter up again the next evening after a long day caring for Chris and Eric. She comments that they’re cute kids, but they take a lot of tendin’.
She’s happy to read that Dart is finding swimming more enjoyable. In her next letter, she plans to send some photos they took at Lake Sunapee to “help show you why, when we have a beautiful lake like that, we love the water so much.”
She doesn’t object at all when he crows about his good grades. “I can remember (once) having the same feeling and it was wonderful.” She wants to keep hearing about his success so she can celebrate with him.
In response to his question, she answers that they met on September 25th in the year of our lord nineteen forty-three. She can’t believe it’s been nearly a year, but even harder to believe is that she survived 17 years without knowing him.
Like him, she enjoys the memories of their few dates on an hourly basis. Memories are so comforting and can brighten her darkest hours. Best of all, no one can ever take them away.
Dart had asked what was new with her sweet friend Cynthia. In truth, Dot doesn’t know too much about what’s happening with her now. She’s studying hard at school and holding down a job in the cafeteria. She plans to be at Dot’s graduation in February, so maybe Dart will have a chance to renew his acquaintance with her then. “She’s certainly one of the swellest girls I’ve ever known.”
Dot refers to Dart’s letter from September 3 in which he asks if she noticed the full moon recently. “Sailor, when you’re right on Lake Sunapee with tall pine trees all around you and a full yellow moon reflecting its beauty on the shimmering water, you don’t ‘notice’ a moon. You sit and gaze at it, wishing it weren’t just a picture you were holding, but the ‘real thing’.” (Dart, I would assume.)
To set things straight, she is not bored with his shop talk. She only wants him to know that she can’t make any meaningful comments about it because she doesn’t understand much of it. She teases him about being a genius, but she hopes he’ll never change.
Mrs. Miller says Dart can move into their house when he visits, as long as he doesn’t take Dot away.
Here’s another charming letter from Dart, ripe with nostalgia and dreams for the future, all inspired by the fall-like weather he’s experiencing on Treasure Island. To get the full affect, I should probably quote the whole letter, word for word, but I’ll try to just pick the bests bits.
“The weather here today reminds me very much of autumn in Ohio. Brings to mind the football games, the picnics, the long drives in the country.”
“Boy, how I wish I could be there now. Put on my tennis shoes and heavy sox, my old baggy corduroy pants with off-color patches; cover up a ragged shirt with a heavy red sweater and leather jacket; pile some lunch into the car; include some stuff to play games with, then go. Nowhere in particular, but preferably somewhere with a nice view. The roads don’t have to be good – I can take the faithful green Ford through most anything.”
(Here’s my favorite part.) “Build a nice fire among some stones in a woods; cook hamburgers (and onion) over a rusty piece of tin; tramp through the woods (and maybe fall in some mud.) Can’t forget the cider, cool and refreshing. Must have apples too, and all the trimmings for the woodsy burgers. No matter how many ashes, how much smoke, even some sand in the burgers, they taste swell under conditions like that, with ketchup, or mustard on toasted fresh buns, with half-burned onions. Wish we’d brought along some lettuce and tomato for the burgers. Had ’em all ready to pack and forgot the things.”
“Hey, what happened to that gallon of cider we brought? Don’t tell me it’s gone already. I only had four glasses!”
“Play a game of catch while the dinner ‘sets.’ Sit around and talk while we keep feeding the fire. Then, as a big yellow moon comes up, drive home, too tired to talk about much.”
He tells Dot that dream includes memories from countless family picnics from the time he was sitting on his mother’s knee until he could pick the place and drive there. Somehow in these dreams he has now inserted a sweet, happy exuberant girl who is Dot. He wants them to have times like that, and very soon. For me, this letter conjures up the many breakfast picnics my parents favored when we were kids. Fall was our favorite time and the early morning hours practically guaranteed we’d have the great outdoors to ourselves.
After a little more strolling through his pleasant memories, Dart turns to answering Dot’s latest letter. He thinks junior college would be a fine idea and physical education is right up Dot’s alley. He asks her how a strong swimmer like her could have been frightened by a little wind on her lake. He asks if the route she outlined on the postcard was close to where her “summer lodge” is located. That choice of phrase proves he has not seen the Chamberlain’s place on Lake Sunapee. Think several notches down from “lodge.” In fact, go to “humble cottage” and you’re much closer to the truth. The only thing grand about their place is the view and proximity to the water. (Well, there’s also the scent of the air, the family history, the sounds of the woods…)
His head is pounding as a result of the cold which has taken a firm hold on him. He wants to grab a nap before chow, so he’ll close with love and kisses. He only wishes the kisses were as real as the love.
Neither Dot nor Dart wrote a letter on September 11, so I’ll meet you back here in a couple of days.
Dart writes a nice, newsy letter today, telling Dot about his trip into Oakland yesterday. He finally found the place he’s been looking for where he can connect with other railroad fans. He’s hoping he’ll be able to score some photographs of the old local railroads from this part of the country. While in town, he caught the film “Home in Indiana,” which caused a wave of homesickness. He thinks Dot would enjoy it because much of it looks so much like Ohio.
The weather has gotten so cold that he was forced to wear his pea coat on liberty. The summer the boys had been promised has apparently decided to skip right over the Bay Area.
Yesterday was also the second birthday of the Advance Naval Training School at Treasure Island, and the Navy threw a surprise party to celebrate. There was a big show in the auditorium, complete with “a colored-sailor band,” ventriloquist, skaters, singers, dancers, gags, a fine emcee and great eats. I’ll bet the military branches were all looking for any excuse to throw a morale-boosting party during the war years.
Dart tells his best girl how much he misses her letters when he doesn’t hear from her for a few days. “I don’t know how on earth I’ll ever stand it when I get to sea, and can hear from you only at much longer intervals.” He tells her that being away from her somehow brings her closer in his mind; he imagines her beside him so he enjoys things more. He dreams that she is thinking of him at the exact same moment, and feels comforted. (I’d say the odds are good that she is thinking of him, since they both seem to think of the other every minute of the day.) He tells her that knowing she is waiting is the biggest incentive he can have to get this war won ASAP.
He reckons he’ll be going to sea in mid-November. Not knowing whether to look forward to it or not, he decides to look forward and hope for the best. “It’s gotta come sometime. I’ve been a dry land sailor long enough.”
Before closing, he asks Dot if she knows the ship her brother Gordon is on.
Dot has just enough time to dash off a quick note before falling into bed. She never knew what “busy” meant until she started working two jobs. Fourteen hours a day, plus sleep doesn’t give her much time for letter-writing.
She sends Dart her new address at the Miller’s house, as well as some snapshots from Sunapee. “Please don’t hold any of them against me. I was really ‘roughing it,’ and couldn’t be bothered to fix up – even for you. Here you see me as I really am. Just thought I should warn you in time.”
Dot writes a very enthusiastic response to Dart’s two-volume epistle from last week. “The two-volume, full length novel arrived today and made a big hit with me. Have you spoken to the publishers about it yet?…Your marvelous descriptions of Treasure Island in all it’s beauty would make anyone want to see it. I’m sorry I can’t at least attempt to equal you by describing the beauty of my surroundings but it’s been raining for the past two days so you see I don’t have the correct material.”
She’s sorry he won’t be going to San Diego for more training, but she’s even sorrier that he’ll be leaving the country soon. She likes the idea of him being in the country still, and doesn’t see why the Navy would insist on sending him away against her wishes!
Her dad says that both Dart and Gordon are being pessimistic about how long the war will continue (To avoid crushing disappointment, perhaps?) She prays it’ll be over much sooner than either of them predicts.
She’s decided to sidestep any political comments on his political comments, lest she offend someone. It does seem to her as though he really doesn’t care who is elected President. Although she doesn’t say so, her father is vehemently anti-Roosevelt, so I suspect she’s a little confused about a man who has no particular leanings one way on another.
On the less controversial subject of mustaches, she would prefer he grow one “out there” and get it out of his system (and off his face) before she sees him next. On further consideration, she says she’d be willing to see him even if he hadn’t seen a razor for a month.
Dot seems tickled to have received a letter from her favorite teacher, Miss McKee, informing her with some sarcasm that “their friend” Miss Hutton would not be returning to Andrews. That’s old news. but welcome, just the same.
Dot arises every morning at 6:45, feeling whipped. She’s drowsy all through her work day, then comes home to babysit the kids and falls back into bed as exhausted as when she awoke. She’s not wild about her schedule, but until she’s no longer paid to do so, she’ll continue to work this hard.
Because of her schedule and the fact that she’s been writing to Dart more regularly, her other correspondence has suffered. She needs to step up her efforts to write all the other letters she owes.
At closing, she tells him to be a good boy, but not too good – she doesn’t want him to miss all the fun!
Dart begins with “Had a lovely dream about you last night. …Just what I’ve been daydreaming all these months. Made me wish the night never would end. But it did – with a cruel whistle to break up our happiness.”
He’s disappointed there’s another Peterson in his world now. He’s an instructor in one of Dart’s classes; petty officer, a fire-control man, second class. He teaches about “those amazing little fellows, the electrons.” Dart says those are the actual words used by the instructor, but “He’s a swell guy, even if he is a bit strange in his linguistic habits.” Folks are frustrated with so many Petersons around. When someone calls “Hey, Pete!” invariably, the wrong two answer.
For the hand tools class, the instructor is a 40-year veteran of “this man’s Navy,” a Chief Engineer. Dart lists his only other accomplishments thusly: ability to smoke an entire cigarette without losing a speck of ash, and the ability to talk endlessly about anything but the subject at hand. He keeps the class waiting until five minutes before their 10-minute break. Then he dismisses them for break and returns about 10 minutes after the next class period has begun. Meanwhile, the class is sitting around trying to read, sleep, sing or write letters. Dart is not so favorably impressed with this guy.
His next paragraph picks up sometime later with the comment “At peace with the world again.” Apparently, he received a nice long airmail letter from Dottie this evening and he’s feeling good. “My girl still loves me; my recognition test today, 92; I still have plenty of money and we get paid Tuesday. Oh joy, oh rapture!”
What he calls “the black cloud of washing” hovers over him. There’s not much time between chow and darkness these days, especially since his swimming lessons delay everyone’s dinner hour.
He’s making progress in the pool. Today, he crossed the width of the pool using the elementary backstroke without getting a face full of water. He’s slowly regaining the endurance that months of hospitalization stole from him.
Later: Laundry is done and he’s had his evening Coke and orange, so he’s ready to write some more. He draws six little sketches of various devices he must know before his next test. Three are some kind of electrical thingies and the others are common hand tools. To demonstrate, he draws a hammer, labeled with A, B, C,and X, followed by a funny descriptive paragraph. “This is a hammer. It is used for driving nails and generally knocking the daylights out of things. It is a ball-peen hammer, with a ball-shaped hunk of stuff at C, used for putting beautiful dents in things where dents belong, like window glass and varnished furniture. For best results, the thumb should be placed at X between the hammer and the work.”
He’s relieved that, according to Dot, he doesn’t have to worry about the quality of his letters. He thinks that getting “jacked up” about things occasionally helps keep him on the ball. The letter he got from Dot today was well worth all the anxiety he had to go through.
With frustration, he tells Dot there are so many things he wants to write, but he has so little time to write them. This is liberty weekend so he must get a note off to his parents because there won’t be time for much until next week.
He closes by telling her that he loves her very much. He asks that she never change, unless there is some change she could make that would be able to make them both very happy. After a second thought, he says he can’t imagine any change she could make for the better.
It’s a wee note from Dot, telling Dart of the hurricane that just passed through Greenwich. I guess that’s the storm Dart mentioned hearing about through his parent’s letter. With our current world of 24-hour news and weather, combined with satellite technology that can foretell hurricanes days in advance, it’s difficult to imagine a day when a significant storm could hit one side of the USA and the other side only learn of it through letters.
She tells Dart that she’s happy he got to see Greenwich earlier, when the lovely town was looking her best. It’s rather sad looking now. Dot has heard the winds missed New Hampshire, so the Chamberlain bungalow should be okay, as are, presumably Harriet, George and Gale who are staying there.
Dot’s house is without power, and she quips, “I find it very hard to write with flickering candles. (It’s much easier with a pen.)” She’ll try very hard to write a decent letter by daylight tomorrow.
I happen to know that neither Dot nor Dart managed a letter on September 16, so I’ll be back here for more news from Dot on the 17th.
Dot apologizes for missing a day of letter-writing. She explains that the electricity was off for a couple of days and we know how she feels about writing by candlelight! She points out that there are so few men left that it’s taking longer than usual to get the electrical lines up and operational. I guess that’s a significant downside to a) sending so many men overseas to fight and b) preventing women from entering male-dominated careers.
She tells Dart that the letter she got from him today made her homesick for Ohio. She could practically smell the picnic foods he described and see the familiar Ohio scenes in her mind. “I’ll admit New England is a beautiful spot in autumn, but I think the people here lack the genuine hospitality needed to make one thoroughly appreciate the scenery.” I do believe my mother always had more of a Midwest temperament than that of an East Coast gal. As a new bride and young mother living in Ohio I know she missed her family so far away, but I think she always felt right at home in Ohio.
She wishes Dart a speedy recovery from his cold. Her sister-in-law, Betty B. and El both have colds because Greenwich is having the kind of weather “that makes them easy to catch and hard to lose.”
At last we hear from Dart! The length of this letter makes up for the several days without one.
He begins by telling Dot about his latest class tests. Dart had argued with Peterson about the wording of a couple of questions on the electronics test. Because others in the class backed Dart, the instructor threw those questions out. Dart felt like a bit of a heel when his test came back with a big 100% on it! He has no idea how the Chief Electrician will score his hand tools test, but one of the questions was “Tell how to use a screwdriver.”
Dart explains that he is now studying subject matter that is restricted, so he cannot tell her what it is. The class is quite familiar with the articles governing discussion of restricted material with people outside the service. “Let it suffice to say that I’d never thought I’d be working with stuff like the fabled Sperry Bombsight.”
He spent his liberty alone seeing some B-movie that wasn’t worth the buck he spent on it.
Her letters make it sound like she’s much busier than he is. As much as he wants to hear from her, he hopes she won’t neglect her duties or her sleep to write. A mere seven or eight pages a day are all he needs! (He then chastises himself for daydreaming.)
He didn’t make much headway in his swimming class today. They let a lot of visiting wives and nurses into the pool area for this class and a lot of guys were flustered to have so many women watching them. That seems like a pretty lame excuse to me.
The photographs from Sunapee impressed him. “Of course you realize I’m not hinting or anything – but it looks like I’ll agree with you about Sunapee being a nice place to spend a honeymoon. It looks like a lovely place. I’d like to keep the pictures.”
In honor of the first anniversary of their meeting, he writes, “I never, ’til I met you, thought I’d fall in love so deeply and so thoroughly. I’d just about settled down for a nice long wait for the right girl to come along, and now that girl has come. I hope we don’t change it after the war, Dot, or ever, for that matter.”
He remarks that it’s nearly time for another full moon. He wants it to remind her that he is always with her in thought and spirit and there’s not a thing in the world that can take those desires away.
Once again, Dart’s passion for the beauty of technology surfaces as he describes a visit to the port by the famous aircraft carrier Saratoga this week. “What a majestic sight she is! There’s no more impressive a warship than one of those huge fighting carriers.”
For more of Dart’s eloquent prose, I urge you to read for yourself his description on page six of the arrival of a historic four-masted sailing vessel onto the Bay, it’s full white sails billowing against the red sunset. Masterful writing!
He tells Dot to check out the back of his final page for a sketch he’s drawn of a guy she knows. It’s a comical drawing of a skinny sailor with knobby knees ready to jump into a pool. The caption says “Since you sent me some snapshots of you at Sunapee, I thought it only fitting that I should send you a picture of me in my bating suit.” Amusing, Dart.
Here’s a tender letter from Dot, in spite of the fact that she worked until 9:00 p.m. and then started in on her ironing. She’s beginning to wonder if all this work is worth it.
She admits that the chances of him getting to her graduation from Andrews look slimmer and slimmer. She asks if he’s shipped out in mid-November, does he think he’ll have any chance of getting back by late January? She knows it’s a lot to hope for, but she’s hoping, nonetheless.
He may be trying to have a positive attitude about going to sea, but she has no such intention. She does not like it one little bit. She writes that she’d give 10 years of her life to see him just once before he goes. My heart aches to read about her longing and loneliness for him, knowing that she’ll soon have to add worry for his safety to the list.
In answer to his question, she says Gordon is on USS Valans. The family is guessing from some hints he’s dropped that he is stationed near Guadalcanal.
She closes with “I love you so much I sometimes wonder if it’s possible!”
